1. |
Radiowave Explanations
01:45
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I will sing these songs to consummate my pain
so that I can sleep at night with another sword in my heart.
because if I kill my pain, then I kill my happiness as well.
I am alive when I am bleeding out.
So put away all those mindless distractions,
because I cannot take them any more.
I must embrace the truth
that I am drained from overflowing
and now lie empty on the ground.
All I have left to give is myself
and I know that is a poor gift.
What good is a glass without its substance?
It is a worthless and discarded thing.
So, I am hollow and abandoned,
like that bar past town just after dawn,
when I am the only one left inside.
I am nothing and I must face that ghost.
Yeah yeah, I know we all walk into our private traps.
but I think that maybe I was born into mine.
So play Le Symphony Eroica and watch
as I attempt to bite and scratch and claw my way out.
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2. |
Anopsia
01:37
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I have put on the blinders
of my sweet sepia toned ignorance.
so spell it out for me in braille
and turn me on dead man, turn me on.
Because, Jesus I know you saved my soul,
can you now save my body in turn?
Turn me on dead man,
turn me on.
Because everything is different now.
There is a constant pressure in my bones,
waiting for a weakness to show
to put a chink in my armor
and watch me crumble down
into ashes and nothingness.
So, how did you handle this pain?
Jesus, I hope you'll forgive me,
but I think if I was in your position
I would have stepped down from my cross
and walked away, and thinking this way
makes it all the harder to believe you didn't.
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3. |
Parameters
01:28
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Don't you dare recall the days I was called golden.
I have long since chipped away my hard and shining exterior.
And smeared tar on my face to cover the shame of your ideals.
I bathed my teeth in it to hide their stench.
So don't you dare recall.
Don't you dare recall.
I am hideous by intention,
because I think often times
a noble mind is just a mask
to cover up a wicked soul.
So play the third like I play my disease.
It may burn like a torch and a carriage wheel going down,
but let's just live out our darkness together.
It's easier to swallow the world that way.
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4. |
Leviathan, Hail!
02:25
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I was warned not to make deals with gods,
because I cannot hold them to their word.
But nobody said anything about this paper dragon,
Made up of all the contracts signed for me involuntarily
in the sleep before my birth.
And now I am shackled to him.
And I keep on marching,
because he keeps on marching.
Though I pull the opposite way,
with all the strength I can muster.
And there are millions like me.
All being drug behind him,
crippled and braindead by
the impact of the ground,
shaking at the strength of his resolve
and the weight of his claws.
Freedom cannot be given by chains,
so I say we abandon this hopeless silence.
Take some gasoline and light a match,
to burn him to the dirt and bury his ashes
in the sand and the sound of our song.
“Leviathan, hail no more! The old god is dead!”
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5. |
Colorization Technique
01:38
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Debt collector dearest,
sitting there palm-raised,
smelling of smoke and dust,
what more do you want from me?
I have nothing left to give except that which is not mine.
And anything that is to come is ill-gotten gains.
Can I make good that which is unrighteous and bloodstained?
I fear I am too weak to push up roses
from ground where even daisies die.
I'm afraid that the scorched earth is claimed by bullets and cyanide.
And the grass is tended by those with broken backs.
Paint me gaunt and underfed
as a gardener, trowel in hand
working for beauty amidst death.
And if I am ever old and gray
burn me at the stake,
because I would rather starve
than eat of that which I hate.
Debt collector dearest,
If I ever raise my palm as you do
out of anything other than purest need,
then I swear, oh dear God, I swear...
I will be made lower than the dirt I am buried in.
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6. |
Fallow
02:23
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I never asked for any of this.
Please, I am begging you,
take it all away from me,
but don't just make me forget.
That is not good enough.
Unless you can make history undo
and erase the cuffmark scars from the past,
Just leave me in my hole in the dirt.
I do not want them to fade.
I may be in chains, but don't you dare touch them.
They are mine and I don't want to be free.
I just want to be home, anything else is inadequate.
If time will not rewrite itself for me,
then I will not rewrite myself for the sake of time.
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7. |
The Space Between Us
01:33
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Wanderer, Wanderer, Wanderer,
you long ago lost your home.
Wanderer, Wanderer, Wanderer,
all their caskets sailed to sea in 1933.
Wanderer, Wanderer, Wanderer,
How does it feel to face death all alone?
Wanderer, I think I know,
because I was abandoned for heaven and the east coast.
So I wish I knew you to have someone who knows my pain.
But this river flows in the space between us.
So shout to me on the other side:
How does it feel to be without a home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone,
moving towards an empty grave?
Because that's how I feel.
Wanderer, Wanderer, Wanderer,
Comfort me;
I can't sleep.
I can't tell if it's insomnia or depression
maybe it's just my genetics.
All the same, I'm tired of seeing the sun rise
and never seeing it set.
It's all lost its meaning.
It used to be late nights studying or good company
followed by tired days that at some point came to a close
But now there is no direction
and there are no new days, just endless nights.
And there might not be skeletons in my closet
Or demons outside my window
or blood on my hands,
but all the same I can't sleep
and I am so very very tired.
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8. |
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You've got such simple eyes,
always seeing the good in everything.
And I used to be the same,
but now my hands war against my heart.
And my heart is worn out and late for the race
and my hands split at the sight of weight,
so now I can't lift this crown to cover up my face.
So I will vomit this smoke from my lungs
until that sky reemerges,
crystal green through my kaleidoscope view.
I'm dreaming of high, lonely hills
where the wind will carry and the ground is dry.
Let me see it, one last time.
and that moment will linger for a while,
and after it fades burn it all away.
I just don't care anymore.
If what is to be
is what must be
then so be it.
I give up.
Just let me see it, one last time before I go.
And after that I'll give up and I'll give in.
I give up and I give in.
I give up.
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9. |
Opio y Anejo
02:45
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To the Riverside County Sheriff's Department:
No, I do not want the gun my mom used to end her life.
Will you please dispose of it for me?
And to the United States Postal Service:
No, I do not want your letters anymore.
Will you kindly stop writing them?
Because I'm tired and when I met Jesus
at the railroad tracks last week he said to me,
"Get up. You smell of rotting meat and cigarettes
and you're cutting of my air supply, darling. Repent"
I said to him,
"I know. And no,
I will not be the third
generation of suicide
in my family."
So, I'm trying to put away all those temptations and reminders,
but I just wanna run away to Mexico and play a song from my past
on that jukebox of old.
But there is no room for sentimentality here.
And besides isn't vanishing just another
form of suicide?
And I'm so fucking scared.
Will this thread follow me my whole life?
Constantly threatening to weave a noose around my neck?
Will it whisper in my ear?
Will I have the strength to scream?
"You only breathe with my permission,
so remember your place and shut your damn mouth!"
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Révolution Industrielle Los Angeles, California
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